Title: The Wanderer's Wandering Daughter
Author: Red Wasabi
Disclaimer: Not mine times ten!
Notes: It's been a while, I know.
Rated: PG
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Simmons let out a frustrated sigh as he glanced across the table at Kitta, he had a feeling that she hadn't been listening to a word he'd been saying. Her fingers were constantly moving in a repetitive twitch and her eyes never rested on the same thing twice. She was acting like hyper dog, or a little kid who'd gotten into the sugar bowl. Simmons sighed again as he glanced at his wristwatch, where was Springer, Kitta needed to download that last file before her next exercise.
Simmons lean forward snapping his fingers in Kitta's face, "So do you understand what I've told you about your mission so far?" Kitta's chrome face plates shifted into an expression that Simmons had come to understand was a happy one, as she responded with a series of low excited chirps.
Simmons half smiled as Kitta chattered on, he had been conducting through research on this speech development problemof hers and though he had been scouring books with such promising titles like, 'Childhood Speech, Language, and Listening Problems: What Every Parent Should Know', and 'Talking Together: A Parents Guide', he had yet to find a solution.
"So you're excited about your point total are you?" In the end he had realized that it didn't matter if she couldn't speak any real languages, he could understand most of her clicks and buzzes anyway. It was like a private language of their very own. Besides she didn't need to English to understand what was expected of her, and Sector Seven was willing to work around a strange requirement as long as Kitta continued to provide such excellent results.
"You know you've almost earned enough points to choose whatever you want from this catalog," Simmons head jerked towards the now open door. Springer stood causally leaning against the frame of the door holding open a glossy toy catalog. The twisted smirk on his face grew darker as Kitta ran up to him; with her hands out stretched chattering excitedly while pointing at the magazine.
"Don't tease her like that," Simmons warned as Springer held the catalog just out of Kitta's arm reach.
Springer snickered, "Why, think she might bite?" With a contemptuous laugh he threw the catalog across the room, and sneered when Kitta faithfully ran to retrieve it.
Simmons rolled his eyes at Springer's lack of protocol, "No, because she is government property and your behavior isn't professional."
Springer's lips curled in dislike as he stared at the small mechanoid who was rapidly turning the pages of the catalog. "Professional? Simmons, I hate to break it to you but we stopped being 'professional' with this thing since we started that point system thing you thought up." Springer jerked his head towards Kitta, "I mean yeah sure it works, but who is really in charge here? Us, or the robo-dog there?"
Simmons glanced sharply at Springer, "What have I told you about that, either you call her by her name or you call her MBE2."
Springer shrugged his shoulders as he sat down in the chair across form Simmons, "Yeah, I know what you're saying but just look at us, 'do your exercises, get a point'. We might as well be saying, 'roll over and get a slice of hotdog.' "
A loud series of chirps interrupted the two agents from their discussion and Kitta came bounding in between them waving the magazine excitedly. Instantly Springer knocked Simmons outstretched hand away and took up the catalog.
"A chemistry set? You want to spend your points on that?" Springer's incredulous voice asked as he looked from the catalog to the jittery alien in front of him.
"Absolutely no—" Simmons answer was cut short by Springer ripping the page from the catalog and putting it carefully away in a file.
"Well Kitta," Springer said with a dark smile, "you can have that chemistry set—" Kitta's excited chirps echoed loudly in the small room. "But," Kitta instantly became still at the word 'but', "first you have to go and 'fetch' something for us."
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Points, those were something that Kitta had learned to like. They meant good things, like treats and free time, and praise. Stealthily Kitta edged around the room towards the glowing consul, points meant everything and this mission was certainly going to be worth a lot of them. Kitta halted a few feet away from her prize, something was off; the enemy never let things be this simple.
Suspicious she flicked on her heat sensing vision, instantly a myriad tangle of previously unseen beams appeared before her. Kitta giggled quietly; if the enemy had thought that those would stop her they were dead wrong. She was smaller, faster, and more lithe then any other operative in sector seven; it was if she had been made to wiggle under, between, and through places other agents couldn't.
Kitta quickly maneuvered her way through the maze of lasers, until she reached her goal: the main consul. Springer had told her that this consul was the most important information hub in the enemies' entire facility; and her mission was to download, and destroy it.
With an almost cheerful air Kitta inserted her fingers into the port and began to hack away at the security codes. This was probably her favorite part; she loved the feeling of the rushing information flooding her data ports. It tingled, and made her systems feel like they were bursting with energy; it made her feel powerful.
The tingle slowed and Kitta knew it was time for her to release the special virus that she had stored in her quarantine banks. She had downloaded, and now it was time for her to destroy. By the time the virus was detectable not only would all their information be lost, but she would be long gone.
Kitta scrambled nimbly up an airshaft towards the roof to wait for her signal. Her small metallic body trembled slightly with the effort but she didn't slow down. This was a timed mission, and she was already a little too behind for her own comfort. All she wanted was to get to the top of the shaft and wait until her signal sounded. Then she could go and they would tally up her points—and her treats.
Kitta let out a nearly inaudible sigh as she reached the plateau at the top of the shaft. She ignored the slight quivering in her thin outer frame plates. She had to keep her audios sharp and her optics sharper. She wasn't out of the danger zone yet.
A piercing and toneless shriek suddenly erupted from one of the nearby buildings and Kitta jumped up, that was what she had been waiting for; she would have five minutes to get out of the secured area before the cameras were back online. Five minutes was plenty of time though, she had run through simulations where she had been given far less and had still succeeded.
Gracefully Kitta dropped out of the shaft opening and skittered quickly across the hot, steaming tar that covered the roof. She easily gripped the nearly invisible handholds on the side of the building as she hurriedly made her way to the ground. She had three minutes now. Kitta jumped the last few feet, landing with a small clatter on the hard and heated concrete. Kitta almost flinched as the heat from the ground was magnified through her holo-shield, causing her systems to flash panicked warnings about over heating.
Kitta let out a low hum of annoyance as her optics darted around, searching for a weak point in the complex's security. Within seconds she had spotted one, about fifty yards away there was small section in the barbed wire fencing where they had clearly run out of the third layer of wiring. The spot was only about a foot wide but that was all she needed to make her escape.
In a flash she ran to the weak spot and wiggled her way through the tangled wire and out into the open and grassy field beyond. Suddenly the ground behind her was peppered with bullets and she could hear the anticipating whoops of the enemy pursing her; that's when she just ran.
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Warily Kitta inspected the strange and poorly defended part of the base she had discovered. In stead of having one centralized building like all of the other bases she had infiltrated, this one had many buildings that were much smaller and much easier to gain entry to. It even had breeches in the parameters so large that she was sure even a much larger agent could have fit in them.
The low wooden structure above her head creaked as someone stepped over her hiding hole and headed in to the oddly colored building. Instinctively Kitta drew herself even closer to the ground then she already was, the enemy was a foot.
As soon as Kitta heard the door lock click above her she began to slide herself out from under the low wooden structure that served as a platform into the pale green building. Briefly she had considered attempting to infiltrate those crude and previously unknown buildings but she had decided against it in the end; whatever they did in there it couldn't be very important, just look at the security.
As she moved across the green open space towards the poorly defended outer walls which had served as her entry point some hours earlier her scanner picked up something curious, something that she had never in all of her 'exercises' come across before.
Intrigued Kitta cautiously moved closer to the new machine. It's glossy, brightly colored surface gleamed in the bright sunlight of the late afternoon. Delicately she ran her small silver fingers against its smooth inviting surface. She felt strange, as if she was supposed to do something now, but she wasn't she what that something was. A curious tingling feeling was building up in scanners and with out warning an abrupt jolt caused her entire frame to spasm.
In a daze Kitta realized that schematics and data streams had began pouring into her processor effortlessly. It was like she had connected to the machine and it was downloading itself into her hard drive. All too soon the moment had passed and Kitta was left addled and confused staring at her thin metallic fingers. What had just happened; had the enemy known she was here? Was this all a trap?
Kitta's processors began to panic, she was already so late; she couldn't afford or withstand another flight from the enemy.
"Do you like my car too?" Kitta's fuel tanks seized at the sound of a soft voice behind her. She hadn't heard anyone, and her scanners certainly hadn't picked anything up, so the enemy had set a trap!
Kitta spun around to face the enemy behind her. Her blue optics narrowed in anger at the small human, if it thought that it was going to capture her it was wrong; dead wrong. In a flash Kitta had closed the distance between her and the small, talkative solider and with a flick of her wrist jammed a long narrow data port straight through its throat.
Kitta smiled proudly as the short solider fell to the ground twitching, gasping, and finally going still. It was a good clean termination, and it would help her make up for the points she'd lose for being so late to rendezvous. Carefully she wiped the data port clean on the unusual floral uniform of the dead solider, it wouldn't do leaving her main hacking port all mucked up with termination fluids. Seconds later she was over the fence, without a single thought to spare for the terminated solider; and headed towards the main road where she knew Sector Seven's van would still be waiting for her.
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The two agents shifted nervously in their seats as Banachek silently skimmed the files Kitta retrieved.
"So it was four hours late?" Banachek's voice seemed to echo loudly in the small conference room.
Simmons sheepishly glanced at his partner who refused to make eye contact before replying, "Yes sir, four hours, but she—"
Banachek irrupted him, "And I also see that it somehow made it's way into the living area of the base as well. Was it briefed about that area?"
This time it was Springer who spoke, "No sir, we thought it best that it be given no more information then absolutely necessary for the mission."
Banachek hummed noncommittally, "Were you also aware that that while in the civilian area it caused the death of the five year old daughter of the commanding general?"
Both agents flinch at Banachek's tone, they had heard of course that someone had died but they hadn't known who it was—or how old they had been. "Sir, we had heard but we didn't have the details yet." Simmons offered. "Maybe if we began a series of social studies programs with her then we can avoid future events like this."
Banachek looked sharply up from the files he studying, "I don't think you quite understand what I'm saying Agent Simmons. I'm not concerned about her lack of social understanding at all. She brought us the information—all the information in more complete and undamaged detail then any other operative that we've ever used."
The two agents breathed sighs of relief at Banachek's statement. "But," both agents tensed again, "I am concerned about what I've read in the engineers report. During the entirety of the mission it sustained very little actual damage to its body, but its vitals were dangerously low when it got back to base. The chief engineer concludes that this is the reason it took it so long to report back to us." Banachek paused to gauge the reactions of his agents before continuing on. "Gentlemen, I don't think I need to stress to you how important this alien is to our cause, it cannot be allowed to fall into enemy hands; from now on it must be taken for regular maintenance checks. Understood?"
Both agents nodded stiffly as Banachek got up to leave the room. "Excuse me sir," Simmons called out as Banachek opened the door, "the reward—her—it's reward."
"Banachek frowned and turned back to face the agents, "Reward?"
Simmons nodded nervously, "Yes sir, the point system I implemented to hasten the training process—"
Banachek let out an impatient huff of air, "Yes Simmons, I read the brief about it, and I also sanctioned it; so what about 'the reward'?"
Simmons looked over the table at Springer who was glowering darkly at him, "Well sir the prize sh-it selected today I think it's inappropriate."
Banachek turned to look at Springer, "Do you also agree with this assessment Agent Springer?"
"No, sir, I do not," Springer replied, biting back the self satisfied chuckle rising in his throat. "I believe that if Project Kitta is properly supervised, and given the right incentives the insights gleaned from her experiments could prove invaluable to Sector Seven's resources."
Simmons mouth gaped open in rage, "You can't possibly believe that Springer, what do you think she's going to give us the cure for cancer?!"
Springer sneered openly at his partner, "It must have had some reason behind choosing a chemistry set! It's probably a whole lot smarter than it's been letting on. I think it's only been jerking us around for the last seven years."
Simmons exploded, "If you actually think that Kitta chose a chemistry set because of those reasons then you're more insane then I've been giving you credit for all these years! She was probably just attracted to it because it was shiny, like any normal chi—."
Simmons froze the last word dying in his mouth, Springer's triumphant laughter burned like fire in his ears. Guiltily his eyes darted back to look at his superior whom he had forgotten was there. "Sir, I--" Banachek ignored him in favor of turning towards Springer. "
"Agent Springer, you're dismissed." Springer smirked widely at Simmons before hurrying out the door and into the hallway. He'd been waiting seven years for that ass to get it, and today was going to be the day!
With Springer out of the room Simmons tried to speak again but Banachek held up his hand for silence. "Agent Simmons," Simmons winched at the formal address, Banachek never addressed him like this when they were alone. "How's your father Simmons?"
Simmons blinked in surprise what ever was he had expected Banachek to say, that was definitely not it. "He's…" Simmons hesitated, "he's dead sir."
Banachek nodded calmly as if he had just been informed it was raining outside, "Ah, I seem to remember hearing something about that. I'm sorry for bringing it up."
Simmons mouth tightened, "There's no need to be sorry Sir, he was old, and it was his time." Simmons paused, "you wanted to talk to me though Sir…"
Banachek let out a laugh, "You always were the impatient one Simmons; even your mother had to admit that. I remember when I first started here, as an agent under your father's direction, how you were once playing in his office and you broke a—well I don't remember what it was now, but I remember that you broke it. And instead of trying to hide it like most little kids would have, you barged right into the meeting put all the pieces onto the table and demanded he punish you right then and there. Impatient."
Simmons stood still, unsure of how to respond to Banachek's narrative for a moment until he finally spoke up, "It was an alien rock."
Banachek shook his head fondly, "Yes, I bet you'd remember what it was."
The camaraderie and friendliness between himself and Banachek all of a sudden became too much for Simmons and he blurted out, "About what I said Sir—."
"Simmons," Banachek's sharp voice caused Simmons to stop trying to explain. "Lets pretend that 'Kitta' is a normal child, what you feel for her would be normal; you'd almost be like her mentor, or even her father; But it is not a 'normal' child, it is not even a child. It is an alien from an advanced race sent here for reasons that we don't understand. No matter how small and helpless it seems you must remember that it can, and does kill without a second thought." Banachek clasped Simmons shoulder tightly, "It's just a machine, a tool; don't let yourself get too attached ok?"
Simmons nodded mutely in ascent as he watched Banachek finally leave the room. The smaller room seemed to shrink around him as Banachek's words replaying dumbly in his head. 'It's a tool, it's just a machine.'
A tug on his pants startled him from his thoughts and Simmons looked down to see a pair of shining blue optics happily flickering below him. Eagerly the small mechnoid threw her arms up and clicked politely for him to pick her up. Simmons bent over almost as if he were in a dream and picked the silver alien up. When Kitta let out a low whistle of contentment as she snuggled deeper into his arms; Simmons felt a damn inside him burst. Without warning he clutched the sleepy alien to his chest, ignoring the way his voice shook as he whispered endearments to her. She could never be just a machine or tool; she was his Kitta.